Inactive
by HiddlesMeThis
Summary: Three years after Steve went under, Peggy's still struggling with her emotions. In her time of sadness she looks over Steve's old possessions, and this time there were some added items.


_Inactive_  
It had been three years since he disappeared into the ice. Three long, painful years and yet not a day went by she didn't think of him, his voice cracking over the radio and the dreadful silence that followed. In a way it felt like that silence still lingered over her in her daily life. Every day consumed by those last few words. "I'm going to need a rain check on that dance."  
Still she carried on with her life, losing another soldier wasn't anything new, it happened all the time, why was this different? Because he was different, special, filled with such heart and dedication. Three years later and she hadn't gotten over it, him, completely. Every so often, when she felt especially low, she'd only torture herself further and dig out his file. Nothing changed, nothing ever changed, of course it wasn't a surprise to her but she always hoped one day it would change. Inactive. How a single word could haunt.  
She solemnly dressed herself; this was going to be one of those days and she knew it already. The empty silence flooding her mind as she made her way to the small room lined with boxes upon boxes stuffed full with files. R… Rogers… Rogers, Capt. Steve. To her surprise he had his own box now and as she pulled it out it weighed much heavier than expected. What was there possibly to change that they had needed more room and weighed so much?  
Slowly she pulled the lid off the box, setting it on the table beside the box. Peering over the edge of the box the usual file sat on top and she opened it, tracing her long fingers over the now so familiar pictures. Curiosity got the better of her and she tucked the photographs back into the file, tossing it gently to the side to see what it was that now occupied this box. Almost anything that had ever belonged to him that hadn't gone down with him was now folded neatly into the box. A plain military uniform he'd worn pre-serum, a larger plain military uniform that he'd never worn, a spare set of dog tags, a few sketchbooks that she flipped through quickly before she was distracted. Oh, what's this? A bright blue material was visible from the corner of her eye in the bottom of the box and she pulled it gently from the box, keeping it folded over her arms. She ran her fingertips over the stitching of a large, white star embroidered onto the material; A spare Captain America uniform.  
Hesitantly she unfolded it so it lay across the table, memories flooding her mind but in a way, this felt better than the simple pictures did. To have such a concrete reminder of him was more than she could ask for. Lifting the sleeve she pressed it to her cheek and grinned lightly to herself; the soft material was such a vivid trigger to the happier times, it even smelled of him, a smell she hadn't had the pleasure of enjoying in three torturous years. An idea popped into her head, an idea so strange to her it almost seemed crazy. Perhaps, maybe, she could put it on.  
After a long moment of contemplating she could no longer help herself, she looked around hastily to make sure no one was around before she wiggled her skirt off and slid her legs into the light material. The uniform was large on her, baggy especially around the arms and legs. It could be described as a tent over her small body, but it comforted her, giving her a feeling of a warm embrace.  
Sitting down before the desk, still wearing the uniform that she had missed so much she went back to the sketchbook, spending more and more time on each page. Doodles of almost anything could be found in here: people, animals, everyday objects, landscapes, and some unrecognizable objects or beings. One more page she flipped before she closed the book in tears, a small sketch of her that seemed to display her giving off a glow, it was too much.  
A chief of the day was spent sitting before the closed book and his other possession scattered over the table, her arms folded over herself with the too long sleeve that hung over her hands tucked under her arms. She cried until no more tears could possibly fall from her eyes, stain her cheeks, and soak into the blue material, darkening it by a shade. Reluctantly she pulled the uniform off, replacing her skirt and folding it away once more, piling his belongings into the box, placing the lid back on top of the box, sliding it back into the dedicated place. She moved over to the door, glancing back at the box labeled Rogers, Capt. Steve before turning off the lights, leaving it to sit and collect dust for days, weeks, or months until she once again returned to retrieve it for a day.


End file.
